A Little Help?
by alldatjazz
Summary: NEW CHAPTERS ADDED!Mark is walking home from one of Maureen's protests one night, and is attacked. The next day, Roger sets out to search for him, and finds a gruesome discovery in a nearby apartment. MarkRoger
1. Protector

Mark walked down the dark, concrete alleyway. It was 1 AM and he was just getting back from filming another one of Maureen's protests. He was getting tired of having to do everything for her. It was evident she would never take notice. Mark was finally accepting the fact that the realtionship was over. Maureen had moved on. She had found Joanne. There wasn't a chance for Mark. 

Mark thought deeply and intensely as he walked the familiar path back to the loft in which he lived. He was humming a song that was on the radio all the time, and he would often forget the tune; when that happened he just went back to the beat of the chorus and continued. Roger was celebrating his 25th birthday tomorrow. Mark's dark blue eyes sparkled with joy as he thought of having the opportunity to confront Roger about something he'd been thinking about for so long.

Mark was still deep in thought when a black car drove and abruptly stopped beside him. He kept walking, a bit faster this time. Mark heard two car doors opening, but didn't dare look back to see what the people looked like. By this time, he was running as fast as he possibly could. Mark looked back to see if the people were following, and was blind-sided by a heavy object, that felt to him like a steel pipe. He fell over, still conscious, but not able to see or hear clearly. He writhed in pain, feeling blood trickling from his head. He saw a large, pale figure standing over him. "Wh-who...ugh," Mark managed to say.

"Say goodnight, bitch," Mark heard the pale figure say loudly. He say a large object coming toward him and felt a sharp jolt of pain in the right side of his head. His thoughts trailed off, and he could no longer see or hear...

* * *

"Hey, Joanne, have you seen Mark?" Roger said into the phone. 

"No, I haven't seen him in a while-hold on, will you?" Joanne set the phone down, and Roger could hear Joanne talking to Maureen about something. Joanne picked the phone up again and said, "Maureen hasn't seen him in a while, either."

"Okay, thanks...Well, I better go-I need to look for him. I'm starting to get worried about him. Can you possibly come over to help? Okay. Okay. Yeah, get everyone that you can. Okay. Okay. Yeah. Of course it's okay if Maureen comes. Oh, you weren't sure because-no, he's fine now. Okay. I'll see you then. Bye." Roger hung up the phone and walked to the rickety, old balcony. He looked out over the alleyways and streets that were near the loft. Where could Mark be? He was supposed to wait for Maureen, Joanne, Collins, and Angel, but he really needed to go ahead and start looking. He grabbed his coat, hat, scarf, and headed out the door.

* * *

When Roger got to the alleyway, he looked all around him. He didn't see Mark anywhere. So, he ventured several alleys over, yielding no result. He began going to different apartment buildings and asking the people if they had seen him. 

Roger reached one particularly abandoned looking apartment, it's door halfway open. He opened it the rest of the way. It looked like it haden't been cleaned in years-not that Roger cared. There were broken condoms on the floor, along with ropes, empty lube containers, and...Mark's scarf? Roger ran to a ripped up couch, from under which Mark's scarf was showing. He picked it up. It was covered in red stains, which Roger soon realized to be blood. His grip tightened on the scarf, and his face began turning red. He threw the scarf back on the floor angrily, and walked to a room that he thought was probably the bedroom. When he reached the door, he heard music coming from inside the room. He couldn't tell what the song was, but after a few seconds of standing there, he heard moans and stifled screaming, which he recognized to be Mark's.

Roger tried opening the door, but it was looked, so he kicked it down, using all of his strength. When the door fell, he saw a small, but muscular man standing at the end of the bed. Mark's legs were in the air, and right away, he knew what was going on. Roger approached the man, turning him around to face him. The man's face filled with horror.

"I'm going to give you _1 second_ to get out of here, or I _swear_ to God, I _will_ kill you," Roger said calmly, with a tinge of hate in his voice, knowing that the man couldn't leave in one second. "Your time is up..."Roger said, pushing the still naked man against the wall. Mark sat, watching, tied to the bed. He was raw and bleeding from being raped so many times. There was dry blood on his head, and the rope on his wrists was cutting into his skin. Roger punched the man several times in the groin, and threw him against the wall countless times. The man fell to the floor, breathing heavily. Roger kicked him until he fainted. "Mother _fucker_! You don't _fuck_ with my friends-_especially Mark_!"he screamed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, panting. He looked at Mark's sweet face, and saw terror in his eyes. He was crying, and still gagged. "I'm sorry you had to see that," Roger said, soothingly brushing Mark's face with his fingertips. Mark flinched at the touch, and Roger drew his hand back. "Here, let's get these off," he said, untying Mark's bonds. His clothes were gone, so, Roger took off his coat, and put it on Mark. Roger picked him up and carried him back to the loft, where everyone had gathered to help search.

* * *

When the sliding door opened, everyone turned to see Roger holding Mark. Gasps of surprise rang out of the small group of friends. "A little help?" he asked, staring at his friends. 


	2. HIV:

Over the course of the next few weeks, Mark underwent a long, difficult healing process. Roger checked on his progress many times a day, sometimes even forgetting to eat or sleep because of his intense worry for Mark. The bleeding had ceased, and Mark stopped screaming in pain during the night. He was still bruised and his wrists were still red, as were his ankles; however, during all of this, Roger always seemed to be there for Mark. When Mark would cry or wail during the night, after say, having a bad dream, Roger would come to his room and brush his hair away from his forehead, which would be wet with sweat. He would stay there all night with him, making sure that he was okay. 

During those two long weeks, Roger seemed to grow more fond of Mark. He felt the need to care for him. Even when Mark had healed and was able to care for himself, Roger was still protective. After that night, Mark was never alone on the streets at night-Roger was there with him, protecting him from any danger that might come his way.

* * *

Four weeks had passed since the incident-if you could even call it that-and Mark was stronger than ever. Perhaps, he was a bit too hardened and closed-mouthed for his own good. Roger began to worry that the ordeal had changed him, or made Mark close his heart to him. Before this had happened-that very night-he had planned on telling Mark something that he had kept in for far too long. Now, however, Roger felt a bit uncomfortable trying to say something so sentimental to someone so closed-hearted.

* * *

A short while after the rape, Mark had taken a number of tests to see if he was physically well. The time came to view the results of all the tests, and Roger accompanied Mark to the hospital. Upon arrival, Mark was given a folder full of papers. He flipped through them, trying to find the one test he knew truly mattered-the HIV test. He finally found the results, slowly moving his eyes along the paper, afraid to see the word positive. He finally reached the fateful line, and it read as follows:

HIV:  
POSITIVE

Mark slumped to the floor. He wasn't crying, nor showing any other emotion. Roger, though, sobbing heavily, trying to catch his breath, and feeling as if he was in a bad dream.

* * *

It was two weeks later, and Mark was still showing no sign of emotion. Roger was worried about him. He had so many unanswered questions, like: Would he be okay? Would he die before Roger? Would he live? Would he ever open up? All of these remained in his mind. Day after day, he would ponder these things, knowing that the answers would come with time.

* * *

Mark didn't film much of anything anymore. He never answered the phone, nor did he feel the need to eat. Roger had to bug him every day to eat something, and he would end up eating something like a granola bar, and taking a swig of water-barely enough to stay alive. Roger could understand how he was feeling, but Roger had recovered by this long after he found out. He always new it was coming, though. He had so much unprotected sex-it was inevitable. He carelessly forgot his protection, and had sex anyway. But Mark's situation was different. He was raped.

* * *

Roger still couldn't get to Mark after 7 weeks of trying. Mark was skinnier than ever, and looked like he was starving himself. Maybe he was, or maybe he just didn't care anymore. Maybe he didn't have an appetite? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping the situation. Mark had gone for a mandatory check-up a week ago, and the doctor had told Roger that Mark's weight was around 90 pounds. That was rediculously low for a grown man. Mark was 23. His weight should be around 140. Roger had to talk to him.

On one cold morning, Roger decided it was time to have that talk he had thought about. He had to get Mark to open himself up to him. He wanted Mark to know that he was always there for him. He also needed to tell Mark what he so longed to say 8 weeks ago. He wanted to tell Mark that he loved him. He wanted Mark to know that he thought of him as more than just a good friend. He loved Mark. He wanted to be with him, but he didn't know if Mark felt the same way. Regardless of his doubts, Roger walked to Mark's room and knocked on the door. Mark opened the door, and Roger walked in.


	3. Someone To Call His Own

"Mark," Roger whispered,"I'm not quite sure how to say this..." Roger looked him in the eye, knowing that Mark was oblivious. "I..." 

"Look, I don't really have time right now, Rog. I'm meeting some friends at the restaurant-the one down the street. I'm sorry, I know you needed to talk to me. Do you think we could talk when I get home?" Mark asked, his eyes empty. He walked out of the room without an answer from Roger, who sat on Mark's bed. Mark closed the door behind him, leaving Roger alone in his room. Roger sat, staring at the wall, for quite a while. He stood up, looked behind him, and then laid back down. He smelled Mark's distinctive cologne.

"_Oh well...Mark is going to be gone for a while anyway, I'm just going to rest a bit_," Roger thought to himself. Roger slipped his hands under the pillow as he lay down, and felt something under it. "What...?" He said quietly. He pulled it out and realized it was Mark's bloody scarf. "Oh, Mark," He sighed. Roger took the scarf to the washer, and put it in. "_Why did Mark save something like that_?" He asked himself. Roger waited until the scarf was finished washing and drying, then he folded it up and placed it back under Mark's pillow.

* * *

About an hour later, Mark returned, and retreated to his room to rest-something he did more and more often lately. Roger was resting in the loft when he heard yelling coming from Mark's room. Afraid that Mark was hurt, he ran as fast as he possible could and opened the door to Mark's room. There he saw Mark, standing, his room demolished around him. "DID YOU DO THIS?" He screamed, holding up the scarf. Roger was completely shocked at how Mark was acting. Mark tried as hard as he could to rip the scarf, failing miserably, so he threw it in Roger's face. "YOU BASTARD!" He yelled, hitting Roger's chest. Roger remained calm, knowing that Mark couldn't hurt him. "FUCK YOU! F-Fu-" Mark breathed quickly and heavily, "Wh-Why did you do that? Why-why?" Mark's inquisitive eyes bore into Roger.

"Mark...Mark, I'm sorry," Roger said sincerely, "I only did it because...I didn't want you to have to think of what happened every time you touched it, or looked at it..." He touched Mark's arm.

"Why? Why did you do that? Why would you even care? Why!" Mark asked, tears springing to his eyes. He shook Roger as he asked, over and over again, "Why?"

"Because, Mark. Because I..." He sighed, "Because, I love you. I love you, Mark. I've always loved you. Ever since I first saw you, I knew that you were the one...I knew that I loved you." Mark's questioning eyes eased and his tears flowed freely. He stared at Roger for several seconds, before pulling him into an intense kiss.

"I love you, too," Mark said between quick kisses, "I love you, too-I love you, I love you..." Mark and Roger continued kissing, Roger pushing him to the bed. "I love you..."

Roger kissed his neck passionately, before taking his shirt off. He looked at Mark's weak frame, wanting to admire every bit of him, but Roger couldn't keep his lips away for that long. He began kissing Mark's collar bone and moved his way down to his chest, kissing every inch of him, as Mark moaned. He moved even lower, reaching his abs, and following the trail of hair laid out for him, reaching Mark's pants. He undid them, and pulled them down, leaving Mark's underwear on. He wanted to tease Mark a bit more. He kissed Mark's member through his white underwear, over and over again, until Mark was practically screaming. Roger decided it was time.

He began pulling Mark's underwear down, and it was like something inside Mark clicked. He sat straight up on the bed. "Roger, no...I-I'm not ready for this yet." Roger looked disappointed. "I'm sorry...It's just...I don't want to get hurt..." Roger stood up.

"It's okay-I understand, Mark," Roger said, before leaning in to kiss Mark's forehead, "I love you. Goodnight..." Roger left the room, and closed the door behind him. Mark laid there for the rest of the night, thinking. Maybe he should let Roger in...Wasn't it about time Mark had someone? After all, it had been forever since Maureen.


End file.
